Simple Orders
by Briabba
Summary: Quinn Fabray was many things in high school. Perfect Christian daughter, Head Cheerio, glee club member, teen mom, Ice Queen. But after making the biggest mistake of her life, the only thing Quinn can be now is one of the most efficient, elusive and ruthless assassins in the world. Can one assignment turn her life back around? Or will it just break her further? Rated M to be safe.


**Simple Orders**

 _Prologue:_

As the wind softly blew autumn leaves across the pavement, the young assassin exhaled slowly, carefully, before they flexed their finger on the trigger of the sniper riffle. The kickback was expected, but as usual, the black-clad shooter was in awe of the power behind the deadly weapon before them. The assassin watched through the scope as their target was hit with the massive bullet and crumpled to the ground, a pool of dark blood spreading out around the body.

The assassin flicked the safety on the riffle and stood up, stretching their arms and rolling their neck side to side. They dug in the pocket of their black hooded sweatshirt, pulling out the disposable flip phone and keyed in the only number saved in the devices' contact list.

Holding the phone to their ear, they waited for the line to connect as they watched a flock of geese fly across the rapidly darkening sky. The phone rang twice, then it clicked. The sniper didn't wait for the person on the other end to speak.

"Target 27 has been terminated. Requesting clean-up on the two hundred block of Jefferson Avenue. Returning to home base." Before the assassin could hang up, a disembodied voice stopped them.

"Check database for new assignment." Another click was heard, signifying that the line was dead. The young killer snapped the phone closed with their index finger and sighed, rubbing the back of their neck. After straightening, they turned and walked swiftly across the asphalt top of the roof and through a small service door.

Once the heavy door slammed behind them, the assassin quickly descended the stairs, listening to the sound of their echoing footfalls on the cold cement stairway before exiting on the fourth floor. As the dark-clothed figure made their way down the dimly-lit hallway, a housekeeper backed out of a doorway about 5 or 6 rooms down.

By the time the maid had fully removed her cart from the room and closed the door behind her, the sniper was only a few paces away. The housekeeper smiled as she pushed her cleaning cart past the assassin, aiming a warm smile their way. Even with the sniper dressed completely in black, the maid felt unthreatened. Perhaps it was the polite smile that the killer tossed her way or the friendly nod of their head, but the housekeeper was blissfully unaware that the person before them had just finished committing first degree murder. And that it wasn't the first time.

The maid couldn't quite see the assassin's face because of the hood overshadowing their eyes slightly, but she did know one thing: the person was stunning and their smile was disarmingly attractive. The housekeeper fought off a small, surprised blush and hurriedly pushed her cart to the doorway of the next room that was scheduled for service.

The assassin kept walking until the maid was safely inside another room, waiting until they heard the audible click of the lock latching in the door jam before back-tracking a couple rooms to reach their suite. The killer didn't particularly want the housekeeper knowing which room they were staying in.

After sliding the plastic card through the slit above the door's handle, the sniper slipped through the door and shut it behind them, fastening both the door knob lock and the dead bolt. With a moment's hesitation, the sniper slid the chain on the door as well.

Once in the room, the killer walked over to the dust filled desk and opened the laptop that rested there on its charger. Sitting down in the cheap swivel chair, the assassin typed in a long password, causing a blue screen to appear on the screen. They typed in another password and scanned their thumb on a black square to the right of the touch pad until the machine beeped twice. A few seconds later, a profile loaded on the monitor.

 _ **Target 28:**_

 _ **Berry, Rachel Barbara**_

 _ **Female**_

 _ **23 years old**_

 _ **Lima, Ohio, United States**_

 _ **6744 Old Creek road, Apt. 13**_

The profile then displayed a picture of a young woman smiling brightly for a camera. White, straight teeth, brown hair and eyes, an obviously Jewish nose, tan skin, high cheek bones.

It was a face the assassin knew too well. A face they thought they would never see again.

The trained killer slumped in their chair and pulled back their hood in shock. The sniper's blonde hair spilled out around their shoulders.

She sat there, staring at the picture on the computer screen like she had seen a ghost. And in a way, she had. She was certain that the last time she had seen that face it would be the _very_ _last_ _time_. But here she was, with that picture staring back at her, unblinking and mocking.

With uncharacteristically tear-filled hazel eyes blown wide, Quinn Fabray whispered brokenly.

"No…"


End file.
